


Never Enemies

by Diary



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 01, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Conversations, Bechdel Test Fail, Bottle Episode Fic, Canon Character of Color, Episode AU: s01e05 Nature Hath Framed Strange Fellows in Her Time, Female Protagonist, Female-Centric, Female-Male Friendship, Love, POV Character of Color, POV Female Character, POV Rosaline Capulet, Romance, Rosaline Capulet & Benvolio Montague Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 20:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11562348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: AU. Rosaline and Benvolio reach a deeper level of understanding in the farm. Complete.





	Never Enemies

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Still Star-Crossed.

“What would you have done if that woman, Stella, had conceived your child?”

Rosaline sees her mistake in asking right away. Montague doesn’t look angry, but he does look unbearably sad. He’s much like Livia, she’s come to realise, in his determination to nurse sadness in private and convince everyone else it’s not deep and never lasts long.

She’d like to be the same, but when sadness comes, it shows and stays until it’s had its fill. Poor Juliet, always one for joy, used to get almost frantic in trying to banish it with everything from constant compliments, pretty little gifts, and sneaking into the servant chambers to sleep with her and Livia, and once it did pass, she’d be on-guard, as if it could suddenly strike Rosaline again at any moment, for any reason.

Shrugging, his tone is mostly light in his answer of, “She never would have told me.”

“Surely-”

“She never would have told me,” he repeats. “I thought- I did know you can’t buy love, Capulet. I thought, however, that giving love- She didn’t love me, need me, or even truly want me. I was the same as all the fools I used to mock, never realising there was no difference between them and I.”

It’d be best to drop the subject, she knows.

“But what if she did and had told you?”

His laughing sigh is a mixture of bitterness and weariness. “I don’t know. I would have hoped she and I could have run away. That she would have truly agreed. Go somewhere far from Verona, get married, have the baby, and perhaps, others.”

“How would you have known, though, if you were truly the father?”

“Because, I loved her,” is his quiet response. “If she were with child and wanted to make a life with it and me, then, I would love the babe, too.”

“I’m sorry.”

Scoffing, he glances over. “Careful, Capulet. One would think you’ve stopped hating and condemning any and all Montagues, regardless of whether they’ve ever done harm to you and yours or not.”

“They exist. You exist. That’s harm enough,” she snaps.

Anger makes her wonder what she’s doing in some rundown farm with a Montague, of all people. No, he is undeniably innocent of the murder he’s accused of, but for all she knows, he’s killed others, perhaps, even members of her family, in the past and gotten away with it. If so, some might view the situation he’s in now as belated justice.

“Oh, yes, I exist.” He shakes his head. “Since you’ve never bothered to ask, my parents died of the pox. I never had any brothers or sisters. My mother was a gambler, and my father had no head for business. I’ve always been interested in the arts, and even with their combined inability to hold onto to coins for more than day, they still tried to support this. They begged my uncle to pay my way through an apprenticeship. I’d spend hours drawing and carving and watching builders at work.”

“Then, they died, and he graciously took me in. If graciously can be translated into, he belittled me, refused to let me apprentice to any carpenter, builder, architect, painter, or even teacher, and tried to marry me off to the first minor noble he could get decent dowry from.”

Tears fill her eyes, and she quickly swipes them away and takes a few quiet breaths.

“These aren’t just empty words,” she hoarsely tells him. “I understand how you feel. Or I understand a large part. You know that my aunt and uncle insisted my sister and I be servants. Of course, that hurt, and part of me found it humiliating, but the worst part was the lack of love. Our parents loved us so much, and they were always so nurturing of our feelings. If not for Juliet and the kindness of the other servants, I worry about what might have become of Livia. She was so young, and she automatically loved her aunt and uncle, and it never once crossed her mind that- But they didn’t.”

He looks over. “I’m sorry.”

Shaking her head, she says, “No. It would seem you and I are both part of the problem, wouldn’t it? I judged you, you judged me, and all this time, we were judging someone so like ourselves.”

“Well, at least, for all our judgement, we’re both willing to say what’s needed and reassess. It took some time, but we’re willing to listen, now. That’s more than can be said either of our families or the prince right now.”

Thinking of Escalus causes a pang.

“If you and I had married, I would have been faithful and given you legitimate children. Or- if we had children, they would have been legitimate, and even if we never consummated the marriage, I would have stayed true to my vows. I love Escalus, and there was a time, when we both thought his father would live forever, that I wished to marry him.”

“What if, out of all this, you still can marry him? Assuming my death isn’t part of this, I’d be happy for you, Capulet.”

She shakes her head. “I haven’t truly prayed since my parents died. When I was younger, I would have been aghast at the thought of a person taking holy vows and not being sincerely devout in their heart of hearts. Now, though- it would be freedom. I’d have my own bed, three meals a day, and a roof over my head without having to answer to the rules of nobility or members of it such as my aunt and uncle. I could read and write at leisure, be sad when I was sad, and enjoy my happiness when it came without worry.”

His smile is small and a bit sad but, largely, understanding. “And it wouldn’t have been true in the past, but now- if we were to marry, I’d keep my vows, too. Stella was the only one, and I loved her. I wouldn’t be foolish enough to go fall in love with another woman, especially one not my wife, and without love-” He sighs.

“Truly?”

“Yes, Capulet, truly. You’ll notice I haven’t asked anything about what you and he did or didn’t do.”

“We only kissed. Obviously, anything else would risk a baby.”

She thinks she might be or, at least, ought to be, insulted by his look. “No, not obviously. Oh, God. This, this is why I had reservations about taking you to a brothel. There’s virginity, and then-” He takes a breath. “Then again, as established, I shouldn’t make assumptions. Capulet, what do you think does and doesn’t make babies?”

Juliet was always jealous of Rosaline’s dark skin successfully hiding her blushes, but Rosaline fears her blush now has surely found a way to announce itself.

“This is not appropriate,” she primly warns. “I’ll simply say: I’ve seen animals copulating, and I know it’s largely the same when it comes to man and woman.”

He groans. “Yes, but there are other things humans can do to one another that are very pleasurable but carry no risk of babies.”

This seems obvious to her, but then, she realises he must mean- things in bed. Likely without clothes.

“Do you know that your cheeks take on an almost bronze appearance when you’re blushing?”  

She justifies throwing a pillow at him with: At least, it’s not a sword, and she’s not trying to smother him.

Really, this must be progress. A Capulet and Montague have been together for over a night and almost a day, and neither has inflicted bodily harm on the other.

He laughs, and his eyes practically dance.

“I suppose you’d know all about that.”

His gesture of assent is the height of bombastic arrogance. “Yes, I do. And if our engagement were real and you were willing, I’d happily introduce you to some of them.”

It turns out, throwing the pillow left her at a huge disadvantage: She can neither hide her face nor try to smother herself.

Come to think of it, she should have tried to smother _him_ when she had the chance.

“Whatever happens, I hope you find happiness, Rosaline Capulet. We’ve both been denied that for far too long.”

His soft words startle her, and she finds herself intently studying him.

Finally, she says, “I hope you find yours, Benvolio Montague. You’re right. We both have, and we both deserve it. It’s not an attack to say we both have faults. But I also judge us both to be good people despite them.” She smiles.

Returning it, he says, “I concur.”

…

She doesn’t exactly mean to look when Benvolio gets out of the tub.

When she was little, she did see how girls and boys were different. One of the servants had a young boy, she took baths with both her parents, and later, Livia, and whenever she was taken to the market, often, there would be rough men relieving themselves against buildings or in grassy areas.

Now, though she doesn’t love Benvolio, and in fact, she isn’t even sure, supposing they both survive all this, they’ll remain friends or if they’ll simply become largely cordial, just as she’s done with Escalus in the past, she finds herself hosting thoughts about what certain things might be like with Benvolio.

She will be sensible. She will be quiet and discreet. She will never disgrace herself by-

“It’s safe to look.”

She turns, and he continues, “We can get fresh water, and I can wait outside, if you want to make use of the tub. There’s this red beaked bird I spotted earlier, and if I can study it for long enough, I believe I can memorise it enough to sketch later on and work on my painting. There’s plenty of shady areas to stick to. Should I-”

“It’s important I remain a virgin,” she interrupts.

Confusion is the main feature on his face.

“But there’s a chance we might still end up married, and there’s a chance I’ll never marry anyone. If you’re willing, I’d like some idea- If you can introduce me to some pleasure without taking my virginity, I’m willing.”

He studies her intently.

Rolling her eyes, she stands. “We do trust one another. I know you’ll stop if I ask, and I know, if you promise not to take my virginity, you won’t. Just be honest about whether you do or don’t want it, and we’ll go from there.”

Nodding slightly, he comes over. “How about we start with a kiss?”

“That seems like a good place to,” she agrees.

…

What in the hell am I doing, is firmly lodged in her mind.

A Capulet without her undergarments and her skirt raised up for a Montague to see the most intimate part of her there is- She couldn’t stop him if he decided to make use of the extremely easy access she’s provided-

Gentle taps on her knees make her feet move.

“If you’re having second thoughts, Rosaline-”

“If I kick you, it’s not on purpose. Find somewhere but my knees to touch,” she says.

One hand goes below her knee, and the other above the other one. It makes her feel off-centre.

“This shouldn’t hurt, but it might feel odd. Tell me if there’s discomfort.”

She can see him leaning forward, and-

When the strange, off-putting pleasure comes to an end, she’s going to need to find out if men commonly put their tongue in such a place or if this is another way he’s uniquely peculiar.

…

She’ll be forever grateful he gave the pillow back before he started.

However, if her jellied legs don’t regain normal feeling soon, she’ll throw it back at him.

Carefully, she sits up. Her heart is about back to its normal pace, and the buzzing throughout her skin is slowly and surely fading, but she’s afraid she might be stuck with bronze cheeks for the rest of her life. “Thank you.”

Grinning, he bows his head.

“Now, how do I please you?”

Bafflement overtakes his expression. “That did please me.”

“But- I know, there are things that- aren’t there ways for men to find release without consummation?”

Still looking unsure, he answers, “Yes, but I don’t expect-”

“I’m offering. Not out of perceived obligation. I’d like to know what it’s like to please a man.”

He nods. “Well, one thing we might be able to do is…”

…

Rubbing his head against her shoulder, he murmurs, “Thank you, my lady.”

“Whether she loved you or not, Stella was wrong to betray you. I promise you, for all we might never fully see eye-to-eye, I’ll never betray you. We’re not enemies.” Turning his head, she softly kisses him.

Reaching up, he strokes her cheek. “I promise you the same. You aren’t and never will be my enemy. I’ll never betray you.”

Easing down fully on the bed, she guides him along and coaxes his head back between her neck and shoulder.

They wait in understanding silence for nightfall.


End file.
